Last spring, I read travel writer Jonny Bealby's Silk Dreams, Travelled Road. He'd auditioned for a 'quixotic stranger' to ride with him from Pakistan to the Caspian Sea, through Central Asia, on a sort of extended blind date. The plan was that he and the woman would loosely follow the old Silk Road and along the way, so Bealby hoped, fall madly in love. But in the tradition of best-laid plans, the trip - and the pair's relationship - were beset by difficulties. Still, the scenery sounded terrific and the book was a page-turner. More than any weighty historical tome on the region ever could, it had me itching for adventure, so imagine my delight when I learned Bealby runs a travel company called Wild Frontiers - and, yes, there was room for one more on its Silk Road Mountains and Towns trip. Granted, it wouldn't follow exactly the journey Bealby took in his book - he travelled on horseback while we'd be touring, hiking and horse-riding (if desired) in Kyrgyzstan, and making a visit to the main cities in Uzbekistan - but the essential flavour was there. Kyrgyzstan, a former Soviet republic, declared its independence in 1991. Its neighbours are Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Tajikistan and China. The country is a paradise for lovers of the great outdoors, offering some of the world's finest alpine scenery, notably in the Mountains of Heaven - the Tian Shan - which are as stunning as the Himalayas but far less visited. Kyrgyzstan is also synonymous with horses, eagles and nomads who shelter in yurts on mountain pastures. Who goes on such a trip? If our 11-strong group is anything to go by, well-travelled types ranging from thirtysomething singletons to retired couples. At the airport in Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan, we introduce ourselves and size each other up. Among the group is a Lebanese-American theatre director; a half-Welsh, half-Polish lawyer; a Kiwi schoolteacher; an Australian personal assistant; an eminent Scottish doctor; and a Rotary Club member (who even attends a meeting on our last night in Bishkek). As for me, I'm of Indian heritage (I'm delighted to see my Asian looks elicit complicit smiles from the locals). The city has a laid-back feeling to it; the streets wide and clean. Bishkek is also home to the bustling Osh bazaar. On the first day, we snake through it, nibbling our way through the food stalls. I munch pickles, sniff paper cones filled with spices, sample kurut (salty, dried balls of yoghurt) and tear bits from huge wheels of naan bread, thicker than the Indian variety. The diversity of faces is fascinating - from blond Russian to rosy-cheeked Mongolian and everything in between, including one rugged Italian: Dom Mocchi, our charismatic guide, who has a Kyrgyz wife and is based in Bishkek. We head out of town in an army truck (we christen her Olga) and for the next 10 days, ricochet from one mountain valley to the next. The scenery is, as Bealby's book suggests, ravishing: towering peaks, endless badlands-like canyons, turquoise lakes and flower-filled meadows. Occasionally, we spot a horseman thundering past, the odd UFO-shaped yurt, flocks of sheep or yaks grazing, or a golden eagle casting an arc in the sky. Mostly, we travel for hours without seeing a soul. 'Jailoo tourism' is the big thing in Kyrgyzstan. It means getting stuck in and sampling nomadic life. So we sleep in yurts, which are snug and padded with felt rugs and warm blankets, acquaint ourselves with the locals - including delightful eagle hunter Sogan Bia and his family - and eat enormous quantities of food, the sort that keeps the cold at bay. Every day, there is rice and mutton, noodles, Russian salad, freshly baked flatbread, nuts, thick cream and butter, jam, rice pudding, fritters, kumyz (fermented mare's milk) and tea from a samovar. And yes, the ever-present vodka. You drink it to wake up - or at least Mocchi does, with tea and jam - you drink it to stay warm and, at the end of a long day, you drink it to make merry. Apparently, if you drink it with salt when you have stomach trouble it will kill any and all lurking bugs. To work off all that food, there are hikes along mountain trails and, on one memorable occasion (so the others tell me; I was suffering from altitude sickness and had to miss out), over the snow-covered Ton Pass. In Tash Rabat valley, home to the ruins of a 10th-century caravanserai, a road-side inn, we saddle up to make the four-hour journey on sure-footed Kyrgyz mounts to a ridge at 4,000 metres. The reward? A breathtaking view of Lake Chatyr Kul and beyond it, the Torugart Pass leading into China. There are surprises, too: a visit to the Osh Horse Bazaar; and, in the sublime setting of alpine lake Son Kul (part of the 'Kyrgyz Riviera'), a chance to cheer on the locals in a game of headless-goat polo. Riders hurl the carcass around a makeshift pitch. It's not a sport for the faint-hearted competitor. So attached do we become to our lakeside eyrie that it's a wrench when it's time to fly to Uzbekistan. Tashkent, a modern city rebuilt after an earthquake in 1966, comes as a culture shock after days in the mountains. Ladas swerve through the streets and the women - all raven hair and red lips - stroll about in flowing dresses. We just have time to whip around the old town before driving to the fabled city of Samarkand. In the 14th century, a despot called Timur (who claimed to be a descendant of Genghis Khan) made Samarkand his home. Perhaps all that murdering and pillaging had him yearning for beauty, because Timur ordered his architects to turn the city into a wonderland. The buildings are stunning, but none more so than the Registan, a compound of madrassas (Muslim colleges), minarets, azure domes and turquoise mosaics, every bit as dazzling as India's Taj Mahal. Bukhara, once the religious heart of Central Asia and a morning's drive away, is our last port of call. It has a more intimate air than Samarkand and it's a joy to amble through the mud-walled streets in the old town to the Lyabi Hauz, the atmospheric main square, which overlooks a pool. Here, the locals sip tea on divans, eat alfresco meals and natter in the shade of mulberry trees. After days on the move, we're only too happy to join them. Getting there: Cathay Pacific ( www.cathaypacific.com ) flies from Hong Kong to Moscow. Aeroflot ( www.aeroflot.com ) flies from Moscow to Bishkek. For details of Wild Frontiers? 17-day Silk Road Mountains and Towns tour, see www.wildfrontiers.co.uk .
